


Dissonance

by cruxcantare



Series: Mixed Messages [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, M/M Sex, Post TLC, Rim job, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Spanking, bruise kink, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruxcantare/pseuds/cruxcantare
Summary: It's always been a silent understanding between them anyway. One night, twelve nights, none of them meant a thing. Wrestling forced a nomadic existence on them, they might as well enjoy an ephemeral fling or twelve. Post TLC.





	

They're both exhausted, but their blue eyes catch each other’s anyway.

It's always been a silent understanding between them anyway. One night, twelve nights, none of them meant a thing. Dean lives to keep AJ on his toes; AJ loves getting one up on Dean. If they played out in each other’s' hotel rooms, well, what did it matter anyway? Wrestling forced a nomadic existence on them, they might as well enjoy an ephemeral fling or twelve.

Dean's wet from a shower he just took, tee sticking to his skin from putting it on too soon. AJ breaks the glance, knowing what he wants. No, not tonight. Tonight, AJ's not sure he can handle the switch that turns them from enemies to bed mates and back to enemies when the sun goes up. The duality makes AJ's head hurt, and Dean had already made his head hurt enough for one night. AJ's a simple man, and this kind of relationship they've cultivated is anything but simple.

Too much for tonight. Too much.

AJ is stumbling to his bag and that prominent hole makes itself known again. Dean's eyes remain on that flash of meaty cheek and he stands once AJ is closer to his bag, following him. Dean isn't the most graceful man, and he's even less so after going through tables. AJ knows he's coming, looking behind his shoulder at him.

"No."

"I didn't even say anything yet."

"No."

Dean nods, before holding out a t-shirt. AJ eyes it suspiciously, but takes it anyway.

"What's this?"

"All I could do on short notice. Wear it." AJ shakes it out. It's a Smackdown shirt, about three sizes bigger than what AJ wears.

"I have my own shirts."

"You're not gonna want to wear yours outside." Dean rests a hand on AJ's back, and it's gentle. The same hand that threw AJ into chairs, into ladders. The same hand that tried to dismantle him.

Too much.

Dean leans into his ear and whispers before AJ could ask why. "Keep the tights on. I like it. Shirt'll cover it until we're alone."

Dean's hand finds AJ's butt now, squeezing. AJ pulls away, a groan. It hurts, and Dean has to know how much it hurts, and AJ will make Dean pay for that...

Not tonight.

Too much.

"Dean?"

"Hm?" Dean turns to look at him. AJ hates how smug Dean looks when he thinks he's winning, and tonight, AJ refuses to play. AJ rolls up the shirt, before tossing it. It hits Dean's chest and rolls onto the ground.

"No."

"Whatever you say."

The shirt remains untouched, lying on the floor. Dean slings his bag over his shoulder, walking away from the WWE champion. Dean understands AJ's reluctance just as much as he understands when AJ is eager... that is to say, not at all. They're confusing enough as is, and Dean chooses not to analyze his whims too much. Even as AJ becomes less of a whim and more of a persistent itch.

AJ waits until Dean is gone to start changing. He doesn't trust them around each other. Sometimes, it feels as if Dean would happily kill him... the rest of the time, he looks as if he could devour him whole.

AJ's brow furrows. He looks through his bag again, but they're gone. His pants are gone.... his head whips towards the door, realizing what must've happened. Goddammit Dean. There’s no sign of the other man, and he won’t chase him, not tonight. With a sigh, he gets up, walking to the shirt.

Here he thought he wasn’t going to play tonight, and he’s already lost his pants.

***

AJ immediately looks around when he gets out the car in the hotel parking lot. He knows Dean, knows that Dean is waiting. It almost scares him how much he knows Dean. They barely talk unless it's to tear each other down. But if Dean lets him go upstairs, he's gone, and the game's over tonight, and AJ knows Dean doesn’t want that.

He spots Dean sitting in the passenger seat of a rental car, a cigarette in his mouth. AJ is still... If he goes in, Dean follows. Dean tosses the cigarette out his mouth, grinding it under his toe, before reaching into his car and brandishing a bottle of Evan Williams. He shakes it, as if cheap whiskey was all AJ needed to fall into his bed for the night. It was friendly. Too friendly after their match.

AJ walks over anyway, standing in front of Dean. Dean looks up at him. "Thought you'd change your mind." He holds out the bottle. "Come on, let's fight the adrenaline together. Better than laying awake in pain all night."

AJ takes the bottle, putting it to his lips. He's learned to look into Dean's blue eyes and figure out whether he's got a cocktail going on; it's a hard no and Dean knows it. But Dean looks lucid. He's present in his agony the same way AJ is.

"Sorry about the tights."

The slight burn from the whiskey is welcome. Helps take AJ's mind off the fact he's still in a pair of split tights. "Where are my pants?"

"Prisoners of war, I'm afraid." AJ glares at him while he passes back the bottle. He hasn't even said yes yet and he's already slipping into it. Sharing whiskey. Banter. It was dangerous to give either of them an inch in these situations, and AJ didn’t seem to remember that. "I got shoved off a ladder by my friend, least you can do is flash a little ass at me."

"He wasn't your friend, stop messin' around "

Dean nods, conceding the point. He takes a long drink of the whiskey. He'd come to see the people around him... Even Roman, the person who matters most... As means to an end with AJ. He'd pretend he didn't hate Seth to hurt AJ, he'd pretend to love Ellsworth to humiliate AJ... It isn't something he's comfortable thinking through. Dean tended to fixate, but this is a bit more advanced. "You wanna be my friend tonight?"

"Haven't you had enough physicality for one night?"

Dean shakes his head. He's eyeing AJ. Trying not to get too focused on the future before he's gotten a yes from AJ. "I've got a bit of a problem."

"What?" it was a trap and AJ knows it, he walks into it anyway.

"I want to kiss you so bad and you haven't said yes yet."

AJ swallows. The gentle request hitting him harder than any lusty promise he could've made AJ isn't thinking, isn't being rational, when he leans over to kiss Dean.

That green light is all he needs. Dean’s guiding AJ into his rental, letting him straddle his legs. He wants to close the door. He wants to give AJ the illusion of privacy, make the other man feel all the freer. His hand slides through AJ's brown hair, sucking on that lower lip. AJ's weight on his sore body hurts, but Dean is well aware of how close the two sensations can play

AJ can taste the whiskey on Dean's tongue. It's gone too far. It's too much. The dull pain in his backside and inner thighs, the way Dean kisses him, mixing into a unique pleasure he only gets from Dean. Dean's hands are sliding along his thighs, against the bruises he'd left there. Dean is far too good at squeezing exactly where it hurts, and AJ rocks against him.

The action spurs on Dean. His hands slide up to his butt, squeezing there. He can't tell if AJ's moaning in pain or pleasure into his mouth, and he's not sure he minds either way. AJ's cocky, sanctimonious, and he’s all the more beautiful when he’s base and free.

Dean's fingers slide into the hole. AJ freezes.

"Not out here."

"Shh." Dean's fingertips slide against the scar. "I didn't mean to hurt my favorite part of you, I got carried away."

He kisses AJ again. Fingers sliding along the round ass, to his crack. Pushing past the thin strip of cloth there.

"Dean, I swear... oh _god_..." AJ’s ass presses against Dean’s fingers, the digits sliding between his cheeks. “Not. Out. Here.”

“Is my room a good there?” Dean’s fingers sliding against AJ’s hole. Delaying the moment when he pulls away. The way AJ is trying to hold back his moans going directly to his cock.

AJ nods. With the knowledge this will continue upstairs, Dean’s hand slips out of the hole in those tights.

“Goddamn you.”

AJ kisses him hard. Dean moves a hand back into AJ’s hair, wanting this one to linger. When they break apart, they can feel each other’s breath on their faces, both unable to look away from each other.

“These mixed messages with you are hard to decipher.” Dean yanks on AJ’s hair, tilting his head to the side. Dean’s kisses are soft on his skin. He can’t tell which gasp he likes more.

“All we are is mixed messages.”

***

Dean loves it when he can see AJ staring at him.

While the first time was a fairly mutual decision, every other meeting of the bodies between them seemed to be initiated by Dean. AJ lived his life by a sense of decorum, and was not as outwardly lustful as Dean. To get those blue eyes on him, Dean would have to be alone with AJ… and they were hardly ever alone. AJ never denied Dean when Dean came calling, but Dean likes knowing that AJ’s thoughts match his own.

Dean savors the memory of AJ’s one and only initiation. A knock on the door, and before Dean could ask what AJ wanted, AJ was shoving him into the room and kissing him deeply. Taking what he desired from Dean. Something got AJ in a mood, and Dean was more than happy to help him work it out.

They’re in an elevator. They’re so close, and AJ is looking him up and down. His eyes lingering on Dean's mouth for a long moment. AJ wouldn’t like it if Dean did exactly what was on both their minds in this elevator, and Dean forces himself to wait. He’d already gotten AJ to agree to a night together after everything they’d done together, and it would be pushing his luck. He flexes his hands, fighting the urge to touch.

A ding as the doors open, yet AJ can’t stop looking at Dean and Dean can’t stop looking at AJ. Dean steps out backwards, and AJ follows. Dean offers his hand, and despite a small hesitation, AJ takes it, letting Dean lead him into his room.

Too much. Too far. This is gentle and AJ can already tell by the way Dean’s eyes are on him that there’s none of this kindness waiting for him in Dean’s room. There was no kindness in the ring. They’ve mastered the art of mixed messages, and AJ’s not sure after the night they’ve had that he can handle it.

“Stop thinking too hard.”

“You don’t think at all.”

Dean smiles in response, before nodding toward a door. “That’s us.”

***

The hesitation’s out the window once Dean closes the door.

AJ’s got his hands in his hair and he’s yanking him down into a kiss. AJ’s a good half-foot shorter than Dean, and Dean likes literally getting the other man on his toes while they make out. It has him off kilter, makes it harder for him to gather his thoughts about the moment. AJ’s at his best when the plans and all AJ’s hard gotten control fall out the window and he just lets this need take over.

He can hear the thud of their shoes as they kick them off, without a care where they land. AJ peels off Dean’s shirt, and Dean pulls the oversize one off in response. AJ reaches for his waistband, but Dean grabs AJ’s butt and pulls him in close. The groan tells him to ease up his grasp; Dean squeezes instead, relishing AJ’s pain.

“Keep ‘em on.”

“Dean…”

Dean pushes his butt up, feels AJ’s hips against his. His lips meet AJ’s, and whatever AJ was going to say becomes a hard bite on his lower lip. A loud hiss, and Dean’s guiding AJ to the bed. His tongue sliding along his is just as welcome. Dean wants everything AJ has to offer like this.

Dean stumbles, AJ trying not to move too fast as he’s pulled along, and they fall back on the bed. It hurts, even on the mattress the impact is a reminder of what they were willing to do to each other to be the one on the top of the ladder. AJ should hate this man, and he does, but it doesn’t stop him from straddling his body.

“You got a rubber band or something?” Dean slides his hand through AJ’s hair, pulling it away from his own face. It’s just long enough for Dean to taste it along with each kiss.

“I had one in my pants.”

Dean chuckles. “That’s all right, I got another idea.” Dean wraps his arms around AJ’s back, pulling him close before rolling him over. AJ hisses, and Dean remembers every single time he’d thrown AJ into a table.  AJ’s earned every single bruise and Dean wants to see all of them, relish all of them. Dean grabs the legs at his sides, pulling AJ in closer.

“How you feelin’?” His hands are already on his pants. Unbuckling them. “How old were you when you realized you felt most alive when you were banged up and bloody?” With a push, his pants and his underwear are around his thighs. His own hand wraps around his cock, stroking. Dean looks at AJ under him, his legs at his sides. His eyes are trained on Dean’s cock, on his hand.

“You into being pinned? I can help with that…”

He lets go of his cock, going for AJ’s legs again. First the left, pressing his leg back, testing how uncomfortable AJ’s weight would be on his back after their night. He’s so goddamned flexible. Dean looks over AJ’s face, but the real test is not getting kicked in the face… he doesn’t mind if this hurts a little. AJ could do with a little agony. Once Dean’s sure this isn’t overwhelming on AJ, he presses the other one back. The one thing Dean couldn’t manage to do to AJ in months, and here AJ was allowing him to do it.

_“All we are is mixed messages.”_

Dean refuses to overthink it like AJ has. Not when AJ’s ass is in front of him.

“Jesus Dean, that _hurts_.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Dean leans over, kissing the bulge. AJ’s eyes slip shut at that.

“Think that works better with them off.” AJ’s voice is breathy. He’s gorgeous, and Dean almost finds himself giving AJ exactly what he wants. But if AJ wanted someone who just did what he asked, he wouldn’t be here with Dean in the first place.

Dean shakes his head. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

“All the nice things you could be doin’ with your mouth, and you gotta jaw jack.”

“Oh, I’ll give you something nice.” Dean’s eyes are further down. This time, his lips find that hole, kissing the meaty cheek. His hands move slowly, the left going first, searching for AJ's hand. Dean's swirling his tongue over the exposed flesh while he guides AJ's arm over AJ's thigh, letting him hold himself back instead. Presenting himself to Dean, he thought with a smirk. Before Dean's right could do the same, AJ moved his arm on his own, holding himself back.

Dean looks up at AJ. AJ squeezes his own thighs, his eyes gleaming.

"Well, what are you gonna do?"

Dean answers by putting both hands in the hole.  He grasps the frayed material and yanks in different directions, hoping the tear made the material weak enough to pull this off. He didn’t want to look like a fool when AJ was all bent back like this.

 _Rip_.

AJ moans despite himself. Dean's not breaking eye contact, and AJ was just subject to Dean's intensity in a much more destructive way. The way Dean looks at him in the ring, AJ could brush off. He's better than Ambrose, has always been better than Ambrose. Like this? AJ's not sure he's as confident.

"I didn't tell you to break 'em."

"They were already broken." Dean turns his gaze to AJ's ass. The crack, thin black material between his round cheeks. The scar. The bruising that Dean caused, framed by AJ's ring worn gear. The allure of AJ's battle scars never ceases to win Dean over; he kisses over the bruises, making his way to the cut. Licking up the wound.

"What're you..."

Dean slides one hand over AJ's bulge, making the other man moan. Making him forget his question. Dean doesn't want to justify his kink. AJ's beaten him at every turn since they'd both found themselves on the blue brand, and Dean savors the cost on AJ's body. What AJ would give to Dean on top of that cost.

Dean grabs AJ's thong, tugging it to the side. His tongue slides up the crack, and then back down, pushing deeper as he gets lower. Bent back like this, AJ's ass is completely open to him, and Dean won't throw away the opportunity here. His tongue flicks against AJ's hole, savoring the way AJ jerks underneath him. He wants AJ to beg. He wants to know that this is what AJ wants, that AJ needs to be bent over and fucked hard by a man he claims to hate.

His tongue slides along the puckered flesh, pressing in gently. Palm pressing against his erection, leaving no room for uncertainty. With AJ in his gear, looking exactly how he looks when he's wrestling, Dean could almost imagine doing this in the ring. Another humiliation for his rival. But the fantasy is interrupted by the thought of what the reality would be if AJ ever thought this was no longer their little secret. He'd lose him. He'd lose AJ, and Dean doesn’t know why but he can't.

Dean doesn't analyze his whims, even when a persistent itch starts to become more of a fixation.

"Oh god, _Dean_..."

Dean's beard scratching against AJ's butt is agonizing, makes AJ want to shove Dean off, but when piled on with his tongue and his hands, it's heaven. AJ's fingers dig into his thighs, trying to control himself. He wasn't even sure he wanted this, and now that he's on his back it’s easier to let Dean take what he wants right now.  AJ's not sure what he wants, and AJ can tell by the way Dean's tongue presses inside him that Dean is absolutely certain what he wants.

"Would it be easier for you on your stomach?" Dean asks, squeezing AJ's bulge. He doesn't have to specify. AJ knows what he's asking. Dean seems reluctant to leave his butt alone, kissing along his crack as he waits for his answer.

"Yeah."

"Don't take these off." Dean spits on AJ's crack, before sliding a couple fingers along it. He pushes his forefinger into AJ's tight ass, easing it in. "Please."

Dean's got one hand on AJ's cock and a finger in AJ's butt and he's the one letting out a ragged please. AJ doesn't seem to notice, but Dean does, gulping. He needs AJ to beg now too, needs to hear AJ's craving matches his own.

AJ unfolds when Dean pulls away from him, twisting onto his knees. With the pressure gone, AJ can feel how his cock presses against his tights, the lingering sensation of Dean's mouth and fingers on his butt. AJ doesn't want to seem desperate in front of Dean, but more than that, he likes knowing that no matter if AJ is dominating Dean or spreading his legs for him, AJ's the one with the power here. AJ is the one who could end the night whenever he liked, from the car to right now.

As if AJ needed anymore proof, Dean pulls a small bottle of lubricant and a pack of condoms from the bedside drawer.

"Somebody was hopeful."

Dean smiled at him. "Prepared," he corrects. With AJ's eyes on him, Dean grasps his jeans, slowly sliding them the rest of the way down. His boxers follow, and he's completely naked in front of his rival. Dean's hand finds his own cock, stroking himself again. He groans. The mental picture of AJ's ass hanging out his tights while on Dean's bed is going to get him through a couple lonely nights in the future. "Bend over, AJ."

AJ doesn't hesitate, and Dean squeezes the tip of his cock as AJ does as he's told.

Dean moves behind AJ, just taking in the view for a moment. Every red mark from the ladders on his back, every bruise. His ass hanging out of his broken tights. AJ is utterly beautiful like this, battered but wanting. His eyes remained trained on AJ as Dean bites on the edge of the condom wrapper, ripping it. AJ insists on them, and Dean won't argue if this is what he gets. He rolls it over his own cock, leaning over AJ to lap at his hole again.

AJ's ass presses up higher, AJ moaning out in bliss. Dean understands as soon as he feels a tug on his hair, AJ shoving Dean's face in. He groaned into those cheeks, his cock twitching. He wanted to fuck AJ so badly. He wanted AJ to admit he wanted this, verbally beg for it. His tongue swirled around that hole.

Dean breaks away, pulling out of AJ's grasp. His hands slide down AJ's back, taking in the groans. Pain, bliss, Dean isn't sure anymore. He wants AJ just as unsure. His palms rest on AJ's shoulders, before pressing him down. All the way onto his stomach. He wants control this time, and AJ is so pliant to his touch.

"That good?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me if that changes." It's loaded and Dean knows AJ knows what it means. They've never established anything along the lines of a safe word, but Dean thinks he can pick up the difference. Besides, a safe word solidifies what they're doing in a way he doesn't think AJ... or him, for that matter... are ready for. Dean slaps AJ's unblemished cheek, reveling in the gasp. "I'm gonna fuck you so good."

AJ feels a slick finger press into his butt and he moans. Every push makes AJ's cock rub against the material of his clothes, the bed, sending shocks of pleasure through him. His eyes shut, just letting himself enjoy. A second finger presses in as well, harder, and AJ can't help the craving there. He feels as if every single sensation is multiplied; the way Dean tried to destroy him tonight and the way he's trying to unravel him now. The way every wound radiates, the way Dean's fingers press in deep. His sense of touch overwhelms everything else.

"Pull 'em out."

Dean doesn't stop. He keeps fingering AJ, enjoying the way AJ humps back against his fingers, onto the bed.

"Dean, m'ready.... _oh!_ "

Dean's free hand slaps his cheek again, harder. It shouldn't take AJ long to pick up on what Dean's silently demanding.

"Just do it, Dean, god..."

Dean spanks his cheek, enjoying the way it jiggles. Again, this time to his hip. He can't tell which he enjoys more, the sound of his palm hitting AJ's cheek or the way AJ mewls. He's writhing against the sheets, and if Dean didn't have his own needs, he'd consider making AJ come like this. Hitting him and fingering him through his orgasm.

"Dean, _please_. That what you want? Oh god, just do it, please!"

"Tell me you love this."

"Dean, come on, stop..." Another slap. " _Yes,_ okay? I love this. I love your cock. Screw me already, Dean, I love yourahhh..."

Dean didn't know what brought him to bring his hand down again while he was hearing what he wanted, but AJ's sentence cutting off into a moan was the most gorgeous thing Dean's ever heard. He pulls his fingers out, before wrapping a hand around his cock. He slides his cock along AJ's crack, teasing for a moment, before pressing in. Easing inside of AJ.

Dean moans out loudly. AJ grips the sheets, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. AJ knows pain so intimately after twenty years that he cannot call _this_ painful, not when he's littered with bruises from being knocked off of ladders and into tables. But Dean is thick, and it takes a moment to adjust to the sensation of his cock pressing in and out of him.

Dean's hands find his hips, fingers drumming against them. He squeezes, and he pulls AJ back to meet a thrust. AJ's cheeks slap against Dean's hips, a pain all its own. AJ's cock rubs against the material of his thong, a sensation that's become far too pleasurable. This is Dean's fantasy yet AJ's the one who's been touched, tasted all this time, but now that Dean's inside of him everything feels incredible.

Dean wants to keep AJ on his toes, wants to tease, but that tight heat around his cock is too much. Thrusting into his ass, listening to the way AJ moans wordlessly. Dean lets go of his hips but AJ is still working back against him, their bodies slapping together. Dean's hands slide down his sides and then back up over his back. He doesn't want to overwhelm AJ after the night they had.

AJ's breath is ragged. Dean presses in deep, his balls slapping up against his taint with each thrust. The way Dean's hips slap against his butt feels awfully similar to getting spanked, and right now it just adds to the sensation. He wants to come for Dean, wants to feel Dean lose control. Lost in the kind of animalistic sex that marked his and Dean's complicated relationship.

Dean's body moved on top of AJ's at some point, his stomach against AJ's back. Hands by either side of his face. AJ could feel Dean, the weight was near smothering, made every ache come to the forefront. Pleasure mixing with the agony. Dean pants by his ear, and suddenly he's kissing and biting at AJ's ear, neck. The friction between the bed and AJ is driving him crazy with need; Dean's cock is driving him crazy.

AJ moans into the sheets as he comes in his gear. He can feel Dean soon after, and he's not sure but he thinks Dean is moaning his name.

***

Dean rolls off of AJ with a groan. He slips the condom off, before tying it, looking over at AJ. He's not sure where he tosses it, not when the sight of AJ trying to suck in a breath has him captivated.

"How you feeling?"

AJ responds with a thumbs up.

"I bet you're a mess." Dean forces himself into a seated position, groaning. Everything hurts but he wants more. He leans over AJ, grasping the waistband, tugging.

"Jesus, give me five minutes before you jump me again."

Dean laughs. "No, uh... didn't think you wanted to sit in that mess." He pulls at the tights again, and AJ raises his hips enough to let Dean yank them down. The thong soon follows, AJ just as naked as Dean now. He rolls up the thong in AJ's ripped tights, tossing them to the side. AJ's come is now on his hand, and Dean licks it up as he looks over AJ's body. AJ hasn't even turned to look at him, still lying on his stomach.

Dean's always been attracted to the reds, the black and blues, the mottled purples. Seeing AJ naked, Dean takes a moment to appreciate each bruise he's left on the other man. AJ may be the champion, but Dean made him fight for it, and Dean has always found things most beautiful in struggle.

Dean leans over AJ, kissing the first bruise he finds over his shoulder. The next, the imprint of a ladder on his thigh. It's not methodical, a new injury calling his attention by AJ's arm, before going back to another one on his thigh. He wants to taste every inch of skin that aches.

"Dean, stop."

AJ twists around between his arms. AJ looks as if he's about to scold, but Dean leans in, pressing his mouth to AJ's. AJ groans in his mouth, letting Dean lead him back onto the bed.

There are bruises on his front too. Dean salivates at the thought of tasting them.

"Let me kiss you."

"You asking or demanding?"

It's a strange question, but Dean humors it. "Let me kiss you?"

AJ softens at the correction, nodding. Dean's mouth crushes against AJ's again, moaning when AJ slides his tongue in his mouth. They only separate for a breath, but Dean ignores those waiting lips to continue tracing a map of the carnage he'd inflicted.

Dean’s kisses are almost feather light, reverent, and AJ doesn’t know how to deal with them. His tongue swiping over the sorest parts of his body. It’s near overwhelming and AJ doesn’t want to discuss the idea that maybe Dean got off on destroying him.

“Can I clean up before I go?”

Dean looks up from where he’s kissing AJ’s hip. A long lick, making AJ shiver. “You can do whatever you like.”

***

AJ can still feel that tongue.

The spray from the showerhead feels incredible, especially after the night he’s had. AJ combs his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and trying not to think. There is no middle ground for AJ, he either does things blindly and recklessly or endlessly thinks about what he’s doing, and the moment he allows himself to contemplate Dean Ambrose there’s no turning back. He’ll be stuck wondering how they can pause every bit of hatred they have for one another for this kind of civility.

Dean humiliates him. Dean pushes his buttons and makes him lose control. Dean stares at his bottom and buys whiskey in an attempt to get AJ comfortable with what they’re about to do.

AJ doesn’t hear the door open, but he does hear the rustle of the curtain. His head whips around and he blinks, watching Dean climb in.

“You gonna share or what?”

Dean steps closer to AJ, under the water as well.

“I can’t even clean up in peace?”

“I’m not stopping you. Pass me the bar of soap when you’re done with it.”

AJ hasn’t even touched the soap yet. He watches the taller man wipe his face and smooth down his hair for a moment, considering his next move. “You can have the shower; I’ll just get outta…”

He didn’t get to finish the statement. His hand already on the curtain, turned toward the door, when Dean grabs him by the arm and yanks him back under the water. He’s not proud of the ‘eep’ he lets out, but Dean doesn’t seem inclined to make fun of it. No, instead he just stares at AJ.

“I figured you were probably in here overthinking again.” Dean’s hand squeezes his arm. “Let me help. You’re a shitty person who only cares about himself. You’ll put yourself first every time, and for half a year it’s been at my expense. And that’s not why I hate you, I’m not the most selfless guy on the roster either. I loathe you because you’re a shitty person and it doesn’t matter. _They_ love you. And no matter how shitty you are, they’ll still love you.”

Dean shoves AJ into the wall, relishing the hiss. “I _hate_ you. Don’t you forget that. But I don’t need to like someone to fuck them through the mattress.”

Dean doesn’t consider that his most romantic of come ons, but it doesn’t stop AJ from pulling him down into a kiss.

The wall is cold against AJ’s back, but Dean keeps him pressed to it. AJ pulls him closer, letting Dean’s body be the warmth he needs. Dean’s speech doesn’t help his confusion in the least, because sometimes it no longer feels like hate sex. You don’t have to like someone to screw them, but the whiskey and the hand holding feel like a completely different Dean. Dean’s mouth is a distraction.

Now there’s an idea.

Dean doesn’t argue when AJ’s hands touch his shoulders, shoving. He keeps his eyes on his face, slowly getting onto his knees in the shower. The tile isn’t exactly forgiving on his knees, but like AJ, Dean can do with a little agony. AJ’s hand is in his hair, but he doesn’t need the tug to lean forward and take that cock into his mouth.

That’s the side of AJ he likes. Hands pulling at his hair, slight pain in his scalp. AJ’s hips bow forward and Dean shoves them back, maybe too hard considering AJ’s injuries. Dean’s nails dig into AJ’s hips as he tastes the other man, tongue sliding on the underside. He wants the other man hard; he wants AJ at his best.

AJ is moaning, and Dean half wants to burst his bubble. Tell him something that would truly ruin the mood of these illicit meetings for him. But Dean doesn’t want to scare AJ away, and even more… he doesn’t want to be forced to interrogate the why himself. AJ’s insistence on overthinking this just making Dean think.

Dean doesn’t want to think.

Dean wants to choke AJ while he rides AJ’s cock.

Dean’s blowjobs are sloppy, more enthusiasm than any actual skill, but AJ doesn’t mind. AJ likes hearing Dean choke, watching him bob his head as if he can’t get enough of AJ’s taste. All the snark and all the bluster is quieted like this, converted into slurps and the sound of Dean choking.

AJ’s head falls back, mouth wide open with a moan. Dean’s chin is covered in his saliva. He looks up, over AJ. He’s wet and gorgeous and Dean loves seeing him lost in pleasure. Every sound, every look, even the taste of AJ’s precome have Dean anticipating the kind of pleasure AJ will give him when it’s his turn.

AJ yanks his hair, back instead of away, and Dean takes a breath. He can taste the water from the shower, pooling in his mouth in this position. He can’t move and he wonders if AJ just doesn’t realize or finds some pleasure in watching him drown.

“Get up.”

AJ lets go of his head and steps past him, out of the shower. He does not look back, he doesn’t say another word; no, AJ’s exit is invitation enough. Dean turns his head to the side, spitting, and he hears AJ turning the knob. The water turns off before Dean can feel the lowered temperature on his back, but when the latch releases, a burst of cold water pools over his knees. Dean nearly jumps at the sensation.

AJ dries off, rubbing his body down with the towel, but Dean follows him soaked. He doesn’t want to waste time, following that naked body and his erection. He’s willing to drip to get that.

Dean’s fingers reach out, grasping AJ’s sides. He pulls AJ back against him.

“Nice ass.”

“Nice mouth.”

“How you want me?”

AJ turns to look at him and yanks his head down. Dean moans into the kiss. If he’s learned anything from this arrangement with AJ, it’s that he really doesn’t mind submitting to the older man’s will under the right circumstances.

He can feel AJ twisting them around. He knows the push is coming before it happens, but he can’t brace himself for the impact. He relishes the pain though. It makes him feel alive, AJ crawling on top of him to kiss him some more makes him feel alive. AJ’s hand reaches above him for the lube; his teeth catch Dean’s lower lip and tug.

“Grabbin’ a rubber,” AJ breathes against Dean’s lips. “Make yourself useful.” He hands Dean the lube, offering no other instruction. Dean grins at the nerve, before cupping AJ’s neck with his free hand and pulling him into another kiss.

“You don’t need it.”

AJ just glowers in response.

“Okay, but ah… if you want a show I want your mouth.” Dean slaps AJ’s butt, and grins at him when he gets a nod. A blowjob wasn’t often on the menu with AJ, possibly for the same reason AJ insists on the condoms. It was too bad he didn’t get them more, really, because AJ was _particularly_ good with his stupid mouth. Luckily for Dean, AJ could be so _reasonable_ after a long night with him.

Dean spread his own legs as he popped open the lube. He rubs it between his fingers to warm it up a bit, before reaching down. Watching AJ put on a condom, he pushes his finger inside, groaning. “You gonna stroke yourself for me, AJ?” His breath catches at the compliance, at AJ’s wrist twisting while he touches his own cock.

“Get over here.” It’s an awkward position for Dean, but he doesn’t mind. Not with the promises on AJ’s face and between his legs.

Dean hooks the finger inside of himself, moaning as AJ kneels in front of him. The first swipe of tongue is electric, Dean’s body trembling. AJ’s more of a tease with his mouth, licking up the vein on the underside of his dick, lips pressing on the tip.

“Move your hair,” Dean gasps. The pleasure he makes himself, coupled with AJ’s mouth, is overwhelming. AJ obediently moves a hand to his cheek, pushing back at the strands, holding it in a makeshift ponytail. All the better to see that tongue, his mouth open wide when he finally takes Dean into his mouth.

AJ tries his best not to bump into Dean’s arm. He doesn’t like the taste but the sound of Dean breathing heavy goes straight to his groin. He breathes through his nose, bobbing his head up and down.

“You’re such a good cocksucker,” he breathes. “God, AJ, you should see yourself.”

AJ looks up at him, and just hums around him. The buzz makes Dean mewl out, press a second finger inside himself. “If you still wanna fuck, you can’t be doing that.”

Dean wishes he didn’t say a word. That mouth slips off, AJ lapping at his tip. As nice as it is, Dean wouldn’t have minded having AJ’s mouth until he came down his throat. Something he’ll try for another time.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

Dean wants to slip his cock back into that mouth. He could forgive every foolish boast from the older man for a chance, but he knows what AJ wants, and AJ had been so accommodating to Dean since they’d gotten in the hotel that Dean doesn’t want to push his luck.

“Fuck me.”

AJ responds by flicking his tongue against the tip of his cock. Oh _fuck_. Dean is already planning their next night together, and he wonders if that’s what AJ was going for.

Once he was on his feet, AJ runs his hands over Dean’s thighs, before yanking him closer to the edge of the bed. He can see Dean cringe, but Dean didn’t care about AJ’s discomfort and AJ’s not sure he cares about Dean’s either. The bottle of lube’s by Dean’s forearm and AJ takes it, squirting it into his palm. He rubs it onto his cock, before tossing the bottle to the side.

AJ pushes inside and Dean grunts. There’s always a bit of pain even if Dean hadn’t gone crashing through tables off a ladder. His eyes meet AJ’s, catching the look of focus. He’s easing in and out, taking his time. Despite every single fault in AJ, there was a softness in him. Maybe that’s why his bald best friends are devoted to him and Seth and Roman left Dean behind, mending their friendship without him.

Dean’s fingers curl around the sheets beneath him as the pleasure starts. AJ’s wet hair drapes his face as he thrusts in harder, gradually picking up speed. They’re both gasping, immersed in on the moment and on the friction between them.

Dean’s so tight. A kind of mercy AJ didn’t know he could have for the other man flares up when they are like this. Taking his time before giving Dean the kind of sex he craves. Of course, denying Dean has its own pleasures. Focusing in on making the other man lose control. Dean knows how to make AJ unravel sometimes, in private and in the ring, and it’s so satisfying to return the favor.

“Harder.” Dean’s hips roll up, trying to meet AJ’s thrusts. A move that makes AJ grasp Dean’s hips and shove them down, ignoring the request. Dean groans at that, trembling. The aches and the bruises don’t seem to be there when there’s competing sensations. No, the greatest reminder of the pain is how AJ’s body looks. How Dean made AJ look.

No. Dean’s not playing this game.

His arms reach up, scrambling around AJ’s shoulders. With a tug, AJ falls, barely able to use his hands to catch himself. A little gasp turns into a moan as Dean snaps his hips, and he can feel AJ meet the next one with a harder thrust.

“That’s a good boy,” Dean whispers, before biting his lower lip hard. The patronizing words are met with another bit of roughness, and Dean finds his arms against the bed, pinned under AJ’s hands. AJ thrusts harder, still giving Dean what he wants but seemingly trying to prove something else. Dean’s hard cock rubs against AJ’s belly with each thrust, an unexpected added pleasure.

This time Dean’s mouth aims for those lips, kissing sloppily. He moans into AJ’s mouth, letting AJ set the faster pace. Squirming underneath him, moaning even louder when AJ manages to hit the perfect spot. Dean knows he can’t outlast AJ here, not after having AJ’s mouth, after the kind of sex they’re having. But he’s going to make AJ work for it.

The heat between them is incredible. AJ acts on an instinct here, what feels good, no longer considering either of their wounds. The sound of Dean moaning keeping him from thinking. All this time, and Dean’s body was all he needed to shut out all the thoughts of _why_. All he cares about is the tightening in his belly.

Dean moans out. His hips arch up, and AJ can feel the way he clenches around him, can feel his release on his belly. Both sensations seem to set AJ off, and his eyes shut as he comes hard.

AJ carefully rolls to the side, lying next to Dean. Once his back hits the bed all he can do is try to catch his breath. Dean’s belly rises and falls, and AJ could almost feel the steady thud of his heartbeat.

“You missed your calling.”

AJ ignores that, not willing to hear out the punchline.

“Whiskey.”

Nodding at the air, Dean pushes himself up to seated position, before his eyes catch his rival lying next to him. His mission forgotten, Dean rises to his feet to look over AJ. There’s no arrogance on his face, and Dean thinks he could get used to this side of AJ, but the sun comes up like always and AJ will still do anything to keep himself on top. The side of the other man he sees most still looms over them.

But the side that drank whiskey with him and let him fuck him through his tights? Well, that side’s marked with Dean’s come.

Dean leans over, the fascination in the duality in AJ Styles too much to resist. His tongue laps up his own come, tasting the bitter flavor and the salt of AJ’s own skin. His eyes glance up and he sees AJ staring at him, shocked. Dean won’t be the one to back down here. Holding AJ’s gaze, blue eyes locked together as Dean cleans off every bit of himself.

AJ pulls away, shaky as he drags his body up the bed. Dean’s eyes are still intense on him, and after their night, AJ’s not sure what Dean’s looking for. Without a word, he gets up, walking around Dean to the bathroom again. A breath before rolling off the condom, tossing it into the wastebasket. He considers some poor hotel maid finding it, and he pulls at the roll of toilet paper, ripping off a ball of it to toss over the condom.

His fingers find the knobs for the faucet, but he looks at the door, waiting for Dean. No more surprises tonight, not for AJ.  A few seconds of no glimpse, and he snatches up a washcloth. He runs the fabric under the faucet. The cold water enough to take his mind off of whatever that was back there. Too much. Needs to escape.

As he runs the towel over his abs, he remembers the feeling of Dean’s tongue swiping against his skin. Those blue eyes staring at him, Dean not saying a word. He'd run from that tongue once tonight, and Dean found a way to throw him off kilter again with it.

He would just wake up ready to dismantle AJ, take everything AJ worked so hard for. His hard won name and his title. This was a mistake. The whole stupid thing was a mistake.

“What you gonna do when you get out of here?”

AJ turns, expecting to see Dean in the doorway, but it’s still empty. The thought of _locking_ the door suddenly hits AJ, and he calls himself stupid for every time he'd run in here without doing that, tossing the washcloth into the tub. Maybe AJ brings it on himself. With a sigh, AJ walks back into the room. Dean looks so chill now, stretched out on the bed, head propped up on the headboard. The bottle of Evan Williams is in his hand, standing on the bed.

“Chinese. Sleep.”

Dean nods, before lazily holding out the whiskey. Once the bottle is in AJ’s hands, he takes a long drink. Without looking, he can tell Dean is watching him, curiously.

“Give me my pants.”

Dean points to his duffel, before holding his hand out. Ignoring the silent request, AJ takes another long gulp, kneeling by Dean’s bag. His jeans are near the top, and AJ shakes them out, as if to see if Dean had done anything. He wouldn’t put it past Dean to put a matching hole in his jeans.

“Don’t be greedy, share.”

AJ steals another drink before putting it into Dean’s outstretched hand. He pulls on his jeans, unable to miss Dean’s amused smirk when AJ shimmies his hips to get them all the way up. AJ ignores the giant blue Smackdown shirt; he’d left his bag in the car in his desire to find Dean in the parking lot, but he’d rather not wear Dean’s gift.

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

“I want a heating pad.”

“I have that.”

“Stop playing with me. I’m _tired_.” AJ’s completely dressed and now he just wants to leave. “Thanks for the sex.” AJ gathers up his come covered gear. “Why do you want me around if you hate me, anyway?”

Dean shrugs, moving the bottle to his lips. He honestly doesn’t have an answer. Dean just does what feels right; sometimes, its crippling AJ. Sometimes, it’s pinning him under him, making him admit that despite all that hate between them, AJ _craves_ what happens when they don’t have gold between them. “Rabbit holes, AJ, they’re not worth jumping through. If I still want my title, I’m taking it from you. If I still want your ass, well…” Dean’s smile almost seems predatory. “You’re not going to fall asleep anytime soon. I’m not. We might as well.”

“M’done tonight.”

“Whatever you say. Invitation’s open though. Consider it a sexual intermission.”

AJ hates how confusing things get around Dean. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Whatever you say.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is no reason for smut to be 8K but here we are.


End file.
